The Cat's Fugue
by Katadenza
Summary: One moonlit night, Miku has a rather inconvenient discovery. "Being a pianist was quite problematic when a sleeping cat barred you from actually playing the piano." (May or may not be continued)


**Author's Note:** I'm supposed to be working on homework and "Aves" what the hell am I doing...

Wrote this one night, can't decide whether or not to continue it. It can stand on its own, I guess.

Pairings Included: Possible MikuXKaito (if the story gets further than this chapter)

A Disclaimer: I've never actually owned a cat (though I want to, someday), so some behaviors may be inaccurate. Corrections are welcome. :3  
Lastly, to Beiowulf: No, this is NOT one of the ideas, but it is a vital stepping stone.

* * *

There was a cat on her piano.

There was a _cat_ on _her_ piano.

Well, it wasn't really her piano, but that was beside the point. There was still a cat on the instrument, and this was, at least to Miku, a problem.

It was near midnight, and Vocaloid Manor was silent. The atmosphere was calm and still, bringing to mind the soft notes and tones of a famous sonata. The light of the full moon filtered through the large glass windows of the Music Room, illuminating the cat sleeping leisurely on the ivory keys. Had Miku been a painter, she would have called this scene beautiful.

Unfortunately, Miku wasn't a painter. She was a musician, specifically a pianist (and vocalist, but then again everyone in the Manor was), and being a pianist was problematic when a sleeping cat barred you from actually playing the piano.

The air was cool, causing Miku to shiver slightly in her night-clothes. A wad of sheet music clenched tightly in her hand, she could only stare at the feline. That, and wonder where on Earth this cat came from, and why of all places it chose her piano (which she technically didn't own) as a bed. A calm atmosphere seemed to encourage that sort of thing.

It didn't take long until her thoughts shifted to what, exactly, she was going to do about it.

She couldn't go back to bed. She had _promised _Kaito that she'd have her half of the Cantarella transcription finished by the end of the week, and the two had promised themselves they would actually complete the damn thing this time. Cantarella's instrumental was a beautiful, beastly, and complicated mess, and if she were less intimidated by humans she would be strangling Kurousa-sama for ever composing it that way (then again, she supposed, she and Kaito had brought it on themselves by trying to transcribe it in the first place).

The other option would be, obviously, to remove the cat. But then Miku worried about the consequences of awakening a tiny little killing machine with sharp claws and teeth. So that too went out the window.

The only thing she could do now was what she had spent the last ten minutes doing: standing barefoot in the Music Room, stiff as a board and just as quiet, thinking about nothing and everything. Miku was getting cold.

_Kaito would never let me live this down_, she thought. The sheer thought of her best friend's gloating face finally pushed her into action.

Slowly, carefully, she made her way towards the piano. The sound of her footsteps was thankfully muffled by the carpet. As she got closer, she saw that the cat was now curled up in a little ball, just a few keys above Middle C. Miku held her breath.

If the calm night was like the undisturbed surface of a lake, she was about to throw a boulder.

Putting down the sheet music far _far _away from the feline, she gently put her hands around the cat's stomach and started to lift UP-

Her sensitive ears suddenly picked up a sharp _HISSSSS_...

The tabby's eyes were open, ears folded back, fur raised, mouth open revealing its fangs. It definitely did not look happy.

"N-n-nice k-kitty?" Miku stammered frantically.

In a sharp, rapid movement, its paw swiped at Miku's arm with its claws extended.

"OOW!"

Miku dropped the cat, trying to back away as fast as possible before losing her balance and landing flat on her bottom.

The cat, of course, landed on its feet, thought to give her yet another warning hiss, jumped right back on top of the keyboard again (playing a few dissonant notes in its wake), and promptly went back to sleep.

Miku's arm was bleeding from the scratches. Bringing it up to her mouth, she found herself in the exact same position as she was a minute and a half ago: staring at the cat and being lost in thought.

She wondered what Beethoven would do in this situation.

_Beethoven probably didn't have a cat_, she thought glumly.

In pure resignation, she decided to bandage herself up and go to bed. She knew that this was a lost battle.

_But this_, she glared at the cat before leaving the room, _is war._


End file.
